Someone Like You
by Miss Sher-Locked Stylinson
Summary: John could never forget Sherlock Holmes, no matter how hard he tries to run away from that horrid past. But, will the past soon reunite him? Fluff!JohnLock Post-Reichenbach. 12/7/12: *DIS-CONTINUED*
1. 3 years

**AN: Hello to all! ^_^ This is my first ever Sherlock fic, and I really worked hard on this and tried my absolute best, so please be nice, thanks! Now, on with the fic! XD** **(May be a few errors)**

**OneShot - Someone Like You  
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**Disclaimer – I don't own Sherlock, but I do own the plot of this fic! :)  
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**Rating – T  
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**Pairing – Sherlock x John **

**Words – 1,304?  
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**Summary – John could never forget Sherlock Holmes, no matter how hard he tries to run away from that horrid past. But, will the past soon reunite with him?  
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**WARNING – If you don't like Yaoi fluff – leave NOW!  
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In counting, three years. Those difficult and highly depressing three years of John Watson, who was once the colleague of the famous Sherlock Holmes. Something's have never really been apparent for John after the first three months of the suicide of the detective. John had wished hard for those first few weeks that Sherlock would just appear out of thin air, returning as John flat mate; alive and unharmed or even better, not dead. But, it was never granted.

John had lost all hope and trust in the detective to gratefully return and having a merry reunion. John will always remember those pleading and demanding words that he sobbed aloud in front of Sherlock's grave, '_stop being dead... please... for me... just one more miracle...' _Its wasn't very pleasant at all, not in the least. Having to lose a partner...a friend was downright impossible to even bare. But, to have also witness them die right in front of your eyes, in a picture perfect view, was heartbreaking.

Seeing Sherlock dead on the solid cement sidewalk - his beautiful and stunning face being consumed by his cascaded red blood, also dirtying and sticking to his dark brown curls - it made John speechless and agape. He ran to Sherlock fresh corpse but was accidentally run down by a biycicleman. Picking himself up with a struggle he then proceeded to come toward Sherlock, he could hardly recognize him, he attempted to let himself through, stating he was a doctor. John gently reached for his friend wrist, surely hoping to feel something, a pulse, _anything_! Alas, nothing...

Nothing was responsive or even active. John was in too much of a shock he could hardly speak, anything that processed out his mouth was complete and total gibberish. It's like he has suddenly forgotten how to talk, how to even think! On that day, everything had seem to close in on John and collapse onto him, serving no pity what's so ever.

When John and Ms. Hudson visited Sherlock's grave he told her he wouldn't be able to go back to the flat anymore, and he absolutely meant it. After the visit he returned back to his small comfortless apartment where he once lived before the coming of Sherlock. That's where John has currently been living at during these three years. He still kept his job at the hospital with Sarah. John has been rigid lately. Mostly to start, drinking cups of coffee other than the regularly standard tea and water. In fact, his figure has become slim, much weight lost over the course of a year; slightly unhealthy as well. You would think someone would stop caring about his frame and grow overweight and start to become and abusive alcoholic. But not John, he just ate less and started to lose his signature tan from the war and gradually become more pale the less time he spent outside his apartment flate.

Sarah did of course notice and refused to do nothing about it. She would try to make John eat and develop some sort of stirring enthusiasm but wasn't overall successful. She thought he wouldn't return to his devotion and eagerness self like he once was with the detective. During the winter of the second year Sherlock death John refused to show up to Sherlock grave. John had a strange desire to take his hidden revolver and...Place it carefully and gently to his temple. He was unconditionally determined to pull the trigger. Then, he heard it...a quick, simple sound of a violin. Lowering his gun slightly downward for just a moment, John began to form violent tears to his eyes. It stung badly - like acid - but he rapidly forced them away and resumed his previous action. John embraced his destiny and was quite frustrated to end it soon.

At any rate, he placed his shaky, sweaty finger to the trigger and began to pull...a violin! There, again, he heard it but it lingered about much longer. John dropped he gun ruthlessly and painfully grasped his hands, burying it among his hands and bent down, sobbing. He had just about had it with his past vividly tormenting him every night in his nightmares. John remained in his position for about two hours. Since then, he's never heard that wonderful violin sing.

Forgetting the past was a difficult task for John, he tried to date Sarah again, but it didn't turn out to well. John attempted to try dating other women and utterly failed. Life didn't seem so simple much anymore; all he thought about was Sherlock. John kept all his emotions inside and casually built it up till the point where he thought of Sherlock in a different sort of manner. And, it bothered him very often - did he _love_ Sherlock, or was he to damned discouraged and felt guilty within him? Though, he rarely ever thought that when Sherlock was around - he did now. He missed his dear detective with such intense despair. John would have blocked the rubbish idea of love, but that wasn't about to happen. The idea bothered him so; on occasion he would accidently write Sherlock name on a hospital forum. He was timidly abashed about his odd new ordeal. John knew he was such an incompetence man from time to time, Sarah however did notice this peculiar turmoil and gradually began to allow it to come about. She actually thought it was already quite obvious that they gave people the impression of affection toward one another; she knew intentionally he ought to figure it out someday.

John never noticed himself taken an interest in Sherlock. He's never taken the slightest remark to the younger man. John knew what he is, knew himself better than anyone else, he knew he was straight. At least, within recent post, it could have just been an insignificant sign of culpability. But, John was rather confused at that.

_6 months later..._

It wasn't such a jolly little Christmas Eve. Sarah was away visiting her family for the holidays. Sarah and John are not together but just friends, the only person who rationalized with John to some extent. John sat at Al's, the place where Sherlock cleared that man's name, just a little but he ended up in jail. John sat at the exact table they had during _A Study in Pink_ case. It was at least a few minutes till eleven o clock and John was relaxing and sipping his fourth cup of coffee. Al let him stay a little after closing hours, he didn't mind in the least. Al knew John has gone through a rough patch after Sherlock death, pitying the poor John for his boyfriend.

Al delicately walked toward John's table and spoke. "Oi, John, don't you think you should be headin' on home?"

John blinked his tired eyes awake and looked up to Al, nodding. "Just thought I should stay a bit longer." Al shook his head and departed.

Sighing heavily, John took a final sip of his now cold coffee and placed it down on its clean saucer. The feelings for Sherlock have not vanished yet, it has only gotten stronger in the past months. It was such a hassle to keep this inside him, always taunting him! John was about ready to go, he picked up his coat and was about to get up and retire for the night. John didn't hear the door opening and someone entering softly and quietly. Looking up, John noticed the tall stranger. He didn't move and instead stared intently at him. John's droopy eyes lit up brightly; profoundly astounded.

John chuckled to the unknown man in front of him. A small tear falling from his relieved eyes. The man in Johns view proceeded to come closer and embrace his colleague.

"You're such a bloody dick, Sherlock!"

"I missed you as well, John."

Sherlock Holmes...has returned.

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**Tada! How was it? If you liked it or saw some errors around dont hesitate to review down below, thanks a please review! ^_^**


	2. 0330

_**AN: Hello again! ^_^ Well, here it is chapter 2 or Someone Like You! Some people really thought I would continue this oneshot (musnt have been mistaken though) and I decided I might as well do it. This is a really short chappie though – so for anyones first time reading this it WAS a oneshot but I guess not anymore *shrug* I don't have much to delt with so far - thats way its so short, I wasn't really PLANNING in continuing on this, I just felt like Okay Ill make a oneshot for Sherlock and BOOM its becoming a story. Im probably going to think hard for whats to come cause I seriously SUCK at detective cases!**_

_John POV_

Sherlock was magnificently beautiful in the bright moonlight that reflected off the small living room windows. Once in awhile I would notice him asleep but it would be false alarm. This was surprisingly the first time to capture him in a deep sleep.

The night he returned I crept downstairs to grab something to drink, to drift me into slumber. I kept tossing and turning furiously all night out of happiness that Sherlock had returned, I hope for good. Until it was 3 o clock that's when I decided to head on down to the kitchen to quietly swipe at least a glass of milk, hoping I wouldn't wake Sherlock, having dosed off on my favorite couch, mouth parted slightly and a soft snore passing his lips.

Forgetting my original plan, I watched Sherlock. Studying his face, I noticed he had a few cuts and bruises'' just below his left cheek bone. I wanted to lightly tough my fingertips over those overly sensitive looking wounds. For me to just hold him and tell him how much I missed him, when Sherlock lead me back to our old flate, it seemed so nostalgic. It was untouched and kept the way it often was. (I suppose Ms. Hudson didn't rent it out for anyone anymore.) Once we entered the flate Sherlock opened it with a spare key he kept with him all this time, and opened it. Sherlock left the door ajar for a moment before fully entering into past memories'. We didn't say much to each other once we were out of Al's till now; We both just went straight to our bedroom (though I'm fairly concerned that Sherlock slept down stairs for a reason,) and planned on telling Ms. Hudson at the crack of sawn that Sherlock was back.

As I continued to examine Sherlock I saw in his hands that skull. I eyed it peculiarly, had he been talking to it up until this point he abruptly gave in to sleep. Curiously, I would have desired to have known what Sherlock been telling it other rather than coming to me. It agitated me, had he told it what complexities have occurred or what Sherlock had been up to for three years, misleading us to think he died? Possibly so, but-

"John...?"

I jumped slightly, startled of course. I was about to answer nervously but Sherlock spoke once more, but, appeared to have his eyes securely locked. "J...John,"

Sherlock was talking in his sleep, something so out of character of him.

"D-don't...leave...me,"

I knitted my brows together, quite confused. A small blush unsuspectedly crawling upon my cheeks, 'Leave'? Now why would I _ever_ do that? Though, he was the one that left me, so to speak.

"For...her."

'Her'? Who? What, a girl? I carefully placed my right hand to the side of Sherlock face, trying to calm down his nerves, as well as my own.

Sherlock lips began to move a bit, causing a silent murmuring. "Sherlock, hey, your okay?" I asked, sounding no more like a whisper.

Sherlock's eyes fluttered open and he was painting heavily. His eyes closed on mine then resorted to avert and follow where my hands was placed. My eyes widen.

"Oh, I'm sorry I'll-" I was about ready to jerk my hand away from him, until he quickly reached forward to grab my wrist and place it firmly right back. He then took my other hand and followed it to the opposite side. His own hands grasping tightly over mine. Sherlock fingers felt skinny and abnormally boney - yet warm. Sherlock kept his eyes sealed shut and seem to be drifting away again.

"Hmmm...John..." Sherlock mumbled in his sleep. I smiled, blushing brightly as I have ever been.

I allowed Sherlock to keep a firm hold on my hands as I sat myself on his lap cautiously and leaned my head on his soft curls. I reached for the skull on Sherlock leg and placed it on the side table.

"I'm here for you, Sherlock. I wouldn't be crazy enough to leave, that bullocks!"

**Soooo, whatcha think? I you see any mistakes don't hesitate to review it down below ;) I really don't know where this is going, so Im gonna hold this over for a bit. Please review! ^_^**


	3. Bleach

**Hello again! Its been soooo long hasn't it? Well, this chapter is pretty short and I was planning on making it much longer but, guess what? FINALS! TT3TT Great, that got in the way! Plus this specific chapter wont have have a lot of emotional moments like in the first chapter. Anyways, I hope you review this and put it on alert because that will make me extremely happy and having a greater chance on uploading quickly. Enjoy! :D**

John awoke on the sofa, fluttering his eyes awake. He groaned softly and studied the features around him. Everything seemed to be normal and not out of the ordinary; the laptop was on the desk, papers scattered about, the smell of tea, Sherlock was-

_Sherlock!_

The memory of last night's events came rushing back into Johns head. It seemed so much like a dream, John unhurriedly lifted himself up from the couch, and the blanket that was previously around his figure was now making its place on the carpet.

"Sherlock?" John noticed that the ex- consulting detective was nowhere in sight. Panicking, he scurried his way to the door.

Reaching a hand out to grasp the knob, the door opens itself up. John was lightly hit on the nose, fluttered back by surprise of the impact he covered his freshly bruised nose.

"John?"

John looked up to meet faded green eyes. "B-bloody h-hell, Sherlock," He backed away from the door as it squeaked open to reveal Sherlock, with his hands wrapped around two full brown paper bags. "Where have y-you been?"

"Urgh, questions."

'He's not even going to apologize about my nose?' John thought. Sherlock made his way through the door and quickly set the bags down at the table. "So, um, where _have_ you been?"

Sherlock took off his hat and turned to face John, who was rubbing his bright pink nose. "Well," he sighed. "If you're awfully eager to know, I was out."

John walked over beside Sherlock, picking up his hat; inspecting it thoroughly. "Getting what, may I ask?" A carton of milk was set down, along with other materials'.

"You went to get...milk?"

"Precisely."

"Why?"

"Urgh! So many unnecessary questions."

John remembered back when he asked Sherlock to get his fair share of the groceries' and never did. It seems unusual to do it now. "Isn't it a bit _late_ for that." John furiously mocked.

"How's your blog?" Sherlock casually asked John, not even bothering to answer the question.

"What?"

"Your blog, John. How is it?"

'Asking questions are 'unnessacry', huh?'

John dropped Sherlock's hat softly on the kitchen table. He ran a sweaty hand through his sandy blonde hair. John had no idea if he should even mention about his blog or about what kind of unfortunate things occurred while the ex-consulting detective was in hiding for three years. Sure, Johns spirit was - to some extent - high, but, just the sight of the detective was splendid. 'I wonder if he knows if he's that fucking gorgeous'. Realizing he was completely off topic, John said:

"If you honestly that curious...I never blogged after you death - in fact, I've never once blogged about it. I suppose I was too...torn up..."

John didn't notice he was staring at the kitchen floor; he had a faint urge to look up, since he could feel Sherlock's eyes directly on him. The existing nostalgia atmosphere began to shift apart into an awkward position.

"I don't think you were so considerate about me."

John scoffed. "Flattered?"

"Surprisingly, not in the least."

Now it was turning into a bitter situation. It was a sudden irregular feeling for the both of them. John's eyes wondered about for a bit and landed hastily at the groceries', and noticed something that was very out of place.

"Sherlock is that, bleach?" asked with eyes wide in disbelief. Even though it was quite common to notice that chemical stench back when everything was at least considered normal, whereas it was now giving of the impression of abnormal.

Sherlock wasn't even affected by Johns amaze reaction. He took off his jacket and pulled the cuffs of his sleeves up past his elbow and popped a few buttons of his purple dress shirt. "It most certainly is." He decisively answered.

John hitched in a breath as he peered at Sherlock, taking a much well notice at the detective's neck and clear as day collarbone. An unsuspected blush burned upon Johns cheeks. The warm, regretful sensation tore open a past wound. The thought of Sherlock returning was an astounding blessing, but, John hadn't forgotten about his feelings that had managed to pile up over those three years. He wanted to ignore it so very much!

Clearing his throat John questioned again, "Um, what for then?"

Sherlock broke off the stare at John and ran out of the kitchen with the bleach in hand. "To alter my accessible image."  
>John exited out of the kitchen to follow Sherlock, Looking up he shouted. "Wait, so you're willing to tinge your hair?"<p>

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"You know Sherlock, Harry did this once and told me about the enjoyable yet bitter tale of using bleach to dye her hair. Would you be a least engrossed into hearing this brilliant performance?"

"Oh shut up." Sherlock acidly hissed.

Believe it or not but Sherlock wasn't poking Johns funny bones about bleaching his poor curls of brown. John was actually in the middle of the process of convincing Sherlock to stop this at once, but he was lacking the effect to make Sherlock regretful about going any ridicously further with this. It seemed entirely too pointless.

"Just to warn you, it's about to burn." John reassured in a clam manner. Sherlock shifted into position, sitting still and broad on top of the edge of the toilet. With the lid down of course.

"I'm not a child, I know what bleach does to people beside for the use of clothing." Sherlock kept his well straight face. "Quit being repulsive and just do it!"

John rolled his eyes in amusement. "I hope you're totally certain about this." He sighed, slapping on the protection gloves and started applying.

**As usually if you see any mistakes don't hesitate to review, thanks! ^_^**


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